


Teach Me to Forget

by Big_Diesel



Category: The Loud House (Cartoon)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst, Asian Character(s), Asian-American Character, Best Friends, Biracial Character, Bittersweet, Black Male Character, Childhood Friends, Drama, Drama & Romance, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Femdom, Forbidden Love, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Incest, Incest, Interracial Relationship, Louisiana, Mother-Son Relationship, Older Woman/Younger Man, Parent/Child Incest, Recreational Drug Use, Reverse Rape, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Small Towns, Suspense, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11936949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_Diesel/pseuds/Big_Diesel
Summary: Lincoln has spent much of his teenage year wanting to leave his small, desolate town. A place where his sources of comfort are his best friend and his dreams. He wants to escape from his abusive, alcoholic mother but doesn’t want to leave his grandmother behind. Life feels hopeless until he meets the neighbor who changes his perspective on life, and then some.Update: Story has been dropped.





	1. Seventeen (Part I)

I think she wants a two weeks notice. That is what she told me after screaming in my ear on the phone over the past two minutes. She wasn't angry. I never thought of her as an angry person. I mean she can get angry, but the best term of her personality is happy-go-lucky. Anyway, she pressed me on the phone over the last few minutes that she wanted to say goodbye to the ridiculous, murderous, painstaking, backbreaking job we call minimum wage. I couldn't blame her tough. She was the kind of person who really went to the last nerve for most people. I call it a gift to be honest. Woe is the person who receives her wrath when that final nerve of the synapse snaps. A lotus flower that turns into fury of vines and encaptures you until she completely gets you. It is funny and cute at the same time. When it is all said and done, she gives me the octopus lips in a form of apology. I believe she means it; at least when she is finished pelting those people who suffered her wrath. Anyway, I try my hardest to do what I can with her. She is a tough nut to crack, but she does wear her heart well on her sleeve. She couldn't help it. Too much of her mother in her.

Gally is her name. Well, it is a nickname. She does have a Christian name, but I haven't mentioned it since I was in the seventh grade with her. She earned her name from the manga  _Battle Angel Alita._ She was a huge fan of steampunk during our middle school years. Adapted a hobby into a form of lifestyle. Everything of her was vintage, vintage, vintage. Did I mention vintage?

Anyway, Gally is talking my ear off on the phone about quitting her job at the burger joint. I mean, it isn't her first rodeo in the world of gainful employment. However, her reason this time was because of the snappy attitude of her boss. I mean, if I look like a combination of Kathy Bates and Louie Anderson, I would be a bitch as well. Be as it may, the Kathy-Louie hybrid gave Gally more than she can bare. Until her previous jobs, she left in peace. And when I mean left in peace, I grabbed her from hip to foot out of the restaurant. She was swearing more than the word and vernacular itself, if you get my meaning. But that is my Gally. A woman who is such a knightess. A woman in shining armor. It is amazing with a girl of great caliber and guile; a woman among men; a woman who isn't afraid of challenges. Another amazing thing that she isn't a lesbian. Just saying. A tomboy who is hair touches to her neck. She hates shampooing. She opts to ride bikes in the mud instead of playing with dolls. She gets down and dirty with us when we are drinking cold ones at the quarry on the outskirts of town. She is also a wingman. She can pinpoint any girl who gave it up or is a virgin. An amazing redhead she is. My Personal Misty is my personal nickname for Gally. In return, my nickname is Shorty Ido. Ido was a character from the  _Battle Angel Alita_ series. She explained me one afternoon when we were shopping for alcohol that Ido had character, a serious type. A man of inner strength. But, I really believe is the relationship we share as friends.

I have known her since moving into this town over a few years ago. I left the confines of the Midwest and traded it for mud boots and dirtbikes in the muddy swamp of the South. Mystic Lake is the small, quaint town in small town America. Surrounded by derelicts of the past and the everlasting effects of the Reconstruction era. A town that care forgot, or care forgot it. Situated along the Mississippi River, I can say that the town touches more of Mississippi, but I attend school in Louisiana. My front yard touches Louisiana whereas the rest hits Mississippi. I think my father wanted Louisiana as a choice of residency over Mississippi. I believe it was because of his past, I think. I wouldn't be surprised. My father kept more secrets than the Vatican or the White House. That was his nature, to display his sternness and to work. It was always one of the two. Back when we lived in the Midwest, he was more upbeat. Unafraid to tackle any challenges; willing to give a helping hand to anybody. However, since then, things have been different. Not just for me, but also for my mother.

Once again, moving to South wasn't our choice. My grandmother, my father's mother, became senile and also catatonic. A survivor of the Jonestown suicides in the 1970s, my grandmother hasn't been quite herself. First of all, whenever we visit, her house smelled of turpentine and urine. Her walls were coated in some waxy texture. Also every other word was Jesus or God or holy or anything that dealt with religious. Although I am not religious, but I can describe myself as a spiritualist. Gally has pushed me to come to church on Sundays, but half of those times I am caught up in something or working on my homework.

Anyway, back to my grandmother. What sticks out the most was her transfixed look at me. She nervously take her hand and rubbed my face. She studied me, observe me through her wrinkled digits. It was like she was reading braille, but it is me instead of the bumps. I never could understand why she always called me Henry. No matter the occasion, I was Henry or Hank.

It wasn't until later in my sophomore year of high school that Henry was my father's brother and he died at Jonestown. My father wasn't there for my grandfather took him away after exiling himself with the church. He tried to save his other son, but unfortunately, his wife took him away from school and went on a perilous flight they would never returned.

My dad doesn't like discussing Jonestown or his father or either Henry. I never met my grandfather. He died during my dad's third year of college. The cause of death was suicide. He committed on the day of his son's death at Jonestown.

Back to Gally, she asks me if I am going to the town's formal this weekend. I look at my calendar, which displayed nothing but homework assignments and projects, and told her I would have to see.

"C'mon, Shorty Ido," she tells me with her typical groaning. She does that when she really wants me to go somewhere; especially when she doesn't want to alone. "Take a break from this homework. I am beginning to suspect that you enjoy school."

"What else to do in this bottleneck," I interject with a hint of sarcasm. "School is my one way ticket out of this God forsaken dump. My ass wishes I can go back to the Midwest. But, but, that shit is a dream too. Even if I did, I don't have much kin anyway. None I care about."

"Look at you with your dreams," she says with her Cheshire Cat grin, or at least I can picture as her bangs cover her emerald eyes. "Still thinking of going to LSU or Louisiana Tech for college?"

"I don't know," I tell her. "Anywhere than in the field of broken dreams."

"Hey," she snaps. "It is  _our_ field of broken dreams." She coughs. "You have been here long enough to be part of this town. I mean, hell, I speak correct English around you to make you feel better. Sorry us country folk don't know no better."

"Says the girl who speaks Japanese after many years of steampunk," I say. "Gally, get over yourself."

We both exchange laughs and witty comments about the matter. After a few moments of grinning, we return back to the matter at hand.

"So, Linc," she tells me. She only uses my name at the point when she wants to make a point. "I would like if you come to the formal with me. Everyone from school will be there." She pauses. "Maybe even prissy pants Rae Broussard might be there."

I turn pink the moment she would drop the name of my crush. It goes with notice and she grins once again like the Cheshire Cat. "Sorry, Ido, caught you in a bind?"

"I would say the same thing after saving your ass from getting fired.  _Again!"_

"That boss was a utter bitch. Mean like a damned snake," she tells me in a loud pitch voice. "I ask for one day off because of my lesbian sister's wedding and she refuses. 'Don't want to deal with homosexuals,' she tells me. That fucking bitch!"

I crack my knuckles. " _Or,_ she knows that one, your sister isn't a lesbian, but bi. And two, the wedding isn't for a few weeks. The only reason why you wanted to miss work because you heard that me and Hiro were heading to the fishing spot with Leiko and DeAndre and you wanted to go."

She pauses for a moment, then sighs. "Ok, that is true. But she did not have the right to prejudge me."

I shake my head. "Quit posting these things on Instagram or Snapchat. You are basically snitching on yourself."

"Hey, whose side are you on?"

"The Detroit Lions instead of those ain'ts and cowgirls."

"Whatever, shorty."

After a few minutes of witty bantering and exchanging childish remarks, I see the clock going past ten and I know that is getting close to bedtime. I make it quick with Gally so I can finish my thoughts.

"I will go to the formal with you. Only because you ask nicely and only because you are my best friend."

"So it is not because you want to bone Rae Broussard," she says while making kissing noises.

"No," I exclaim to her loudly.

"Relax, Lincoln. I am only messing with you," she says. "Anyway, there is another thing I meant to tell you earlier in the midst of my bitching about the Kathy-Louie hybrid."

"Shoot. What's up?"

"Dad wants to know if you are free this weekend to help clean some pools," she tells me. "He will pay you up front as usual."

"Sure," I tell her. "At the Thibodeaux place?"

"Not this time. At the country club in Nicholson, across the Pearl River," she says.

"In Nicholson? Haven't been out there since…" I stop, I take a breath before rubbing my face. Before my brain transitions into a paradigm I have unfortunately witnessed, I keep my mind on Gally. "Sure, I have no problem with that. Saturday at ten in the morning cool?"

"Yeah, no problem," says Gally. "But I am not going to hold you up any longer. I know Shorty Edo has a lot of work to do. See you at school tomorrow?"

"Don't I have much of choice?"

"No, no you don't. Plus, I need you so I can pass Chemistry with C."

"I thought you had a D-"

"Anyway, I am going to let you go. Lates, Ido."

"Yeah, later Gally."

I put my phone and rest it on the desk. I look the ceiling where I see pictures of Gally, Hiro, Leiko, DeAndre, the few friends I gathered since living in the South. Honestly, I hang close to them than my own family. I scan my eye to the photo on my bookshelf. It was a picture of my parents. They were smiling. I don't recall when or where the picture took place. It was before I was born. What captivated me about the photo was how happy they were. They were in all smiles. You could tell that they were in love. It reminds me that at some point, my parents were a happy couple.

As of now, my parents are unhappy and no, they are no longer a couple.

My eyes strain when I hear the sound of the Pontiac entering the driveway. The yellowish lights alerts me that my mother is home. I jump from the chair and instantly lock my door. This is around the time where my mother would have come from the bar. At this point in time, it is zero hour.

I turn off the lights and instantly hit the floor. I take small breaths, not want to do anything to alert her that I am awake. My eyes are staring at the bottom slit of the door. A hallway light serving as my guide to see either my mother stops at my door or walk away. I hear the keys in the door. She is now inside.

As I waited holding my breath, I hear curse before shoving something into oblivion. As much stuff as she breaks, it is no surprise that we can no longer have nice things. Even if we did, we can't afford it. My mother hasn't worked in two years. Living off the government tit has been her sustenance.

Heavy footsteps draw near. She is approaching the hallway. I cover my mouth, muffling the noise to not give her any idea. She stops at my door. I am whispering a prayer that she continues to go to her room.

_Please pass._

_Please pass._

_Please, God, let her pass._

_Please, God, let her pass._

It has been about a minute, but it feels like an eternity. I bite my lip, tucking the bottom into my mouth. After a few more moments, the heavy footsteps goes away and into her domain. She slams the door loudly.

I sigh loudly as I know she isn't going to be out any time soon. It gives me a few hours to relax before going to school in the morning.

I get my flashlight and I put it on my desk to see. Before Gally called me, I was actually looking at different applications to go into college. My counselor at the school has pushed me to go to university beyond the South. Neverending pamphlets of UCLA, Boise State, Wayne State, Washington State, Harvard, and the like on my desk in a folder. She believes I have the potential to show this state that a future doesn't include working in the oil industry.

Either way it goes, I must develop a plan. I am scheduled to talk to my counselor about class for the summer at the local community college. I decide to leave that thought aside and go to bed.

I take off my clothes and enter my bed. I say a prayer. Nine times out of ten, I am praying for my mother and my father, Gally, my other friends, and my grandmother. I pray more for my mother than anything.

There was a time she wasn't like this.

There was a time my father wasn't like this.

I ask myself before shutting my eyes from my Louisiana sky. Can a city changes the mindset of the people? Or, does the mindset of a person can change the city?

I conclude the thought and head into rest.


	2. Seventeen (Part II)

A tapping sound at my window awakes me. I sit up and stretch my waywards arms as I see the reflection of the sun bounces on my dresser mirror. The tapping continues, but I don't fret. Because the only person who does this at seven o'clock in the morning is nobody else but the infamous, steampunk gal, Gally. I flip her off, telling her to give me a minute. She knows that I can't stand that thumping noise, especially at this hour. However, she has to be my alarm clock if I am planning to get to school on time. I can think a handful of times when she hasn't done that. Only on the occasions that she is sick, or she knows that my mother hasn't left for her "rounds." I put on my black long sleeve Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt and walk to the person in question. As usual, she makes her infamous octopus lips before I open the window. The moment I do, she pushes me to the floor. I am taken aback, as usual, but fortunate that my mother isn't home. I wouldn't know what to do if she knew if someone enter her domicile without her permission.

"About time you wake up, sleeping beauty," she tells me as she hovers over me, gripping my arms tenderly. "I have been staring at you and tapping for a few minutes, but no prevail. Did you get any sleep?"

I look to her. Her emerald eyes reflecting from the sunlight. The smell of Crest toothpaste and orange juice is on the menu in her mouth. I give her a pleasant smile. "So, are we going to fool around or what?" She slaps my cheek tenderly before getting up and having a seat on my chair.

"Dream on, Ido," she refrains and scoffs as she picks up the  _Rolling Stone_ magazine on my desk. She flips the cover and crosses her legs. "You are still collecting magazines from the past, Ido? We need to get you up to date on something. This cover features Yoko Ono. Who knows how long that was?"

"Get off my sack with the trivial stuff, Mist," I tell her as I sit and go to my bed to sit. For the record, this is every day with us. She makes her entrance; give each other sly and witty comments; and then the brief moment of silence. It is a comfortable silence. Honestly, I appreciate the fact that we can have a consensus of understanding each other. Gally and I depend on each other more than you ever know.

What really defined our friendship was the day of her mother's incident. It was the first day we began high school. Gally was anticipating this day more than anyone else in this sleepy town. She must have made several phone calls and texts to me the night before the first day of school. It was exciting because it was the day when we can abandon the robes of our uniforms and wear our street clothes. I know what you are thinking, that big a deal? Well for us, it signified that we were at a stage where we were facing the final frontier. High school was the highest of echelons a person can get to in this town. Once high school was done, the options were well limited. I mean very, very well-limited.

So, back to the point. The morning of our induction ceremony, Gally awaited me at the bus stop at the corner of our street. You should have seen her prancing back and forth in her All American Rejects t-shirt and her Catholic schoolgirl skirt. She even wore goggles above her head and purple streaks of her bangs were waving in the wind. She was getting antsy to the point where I was holding her hand. It calmed her down a touch. She held me close as we waited for the bus to arrive. A few moments later, she received a phone call that changed the direction of well, everyone.

Gally's mother was such a kindred spirit. A loving mother that I have considered as my own mother. She wasn't a discriminator of person. She treated each and everyone in the town as if they were her own children, her own family. I can still picture the beautiful brunette sitting on the back porch drinking her evening coffee and writing stories in her notebook. Stories that inspired me to write my own. Stories that explained how creative Gally was. A swell of pain entered my heart because I often told her mother that I loved her. When she stroked my hair or kissed my cheek; when she fed me or helped me with homework or helped me seek inspirations for stories, they were everything to me. It swelled my heart. It swelled my heart.

It swelled my heart when we got that phone call that they have found her mother at the edge of the Mississippi River with a self-inflicted gunshot wound. A kindred beauty decided to leave her house in the middle of the night to take a five minute walk to the river to conclude her life's work. In the midst of the darkness, in the midst of the Louisiana sky. Amazing how the rushing water covered the shot that changed the direction of Gally's, her husband, and of course, me.

She didn't leave a note.

I couldn't think of a day when I wasn't at her home. I helped her father with the pool business to keep his mind busy. I was present when she and her father were making funeral arrangements for her mother. I have spent the night with Gally where I slept on her floor. I was there where I lied in bed with her, holding her hand and drying her tears with my palms. I was there holding her hand when the funeral occurred. I never left her side the entire time.

One day, when things calmed down, she told me something that really stuck to me. We were sitting in her back porch. She whispered something to me that was calm as the wavering wind that swaying with the trees.  _You are the soul that sails within me. Forever I will keep you close._

Gally throws the magazine at me. "You get lost in thought too much for me, Lincoln." I throw the magazine back at her. "Sometimes, I think I get lost in those thoughts is because of your face, Momoko."

She raises her eyebrow. "The fuck you just called me?"

I put my hands on my hips. "You heard me, Mo-mo-ko!"

"So, we are this point where we are using first names, uh, Lincoln Loud?"

"I guess that is where we are going, Momoko Molyneaux."

"You dare challenge Gally on this particular morning," she smirks. "I don't think you have a chance."

"On the contrary," I say to her cracking my knuckles. "Understand, sensei, that I have mastered my techniques. You are in my dojo. So, therefore, I am ready for any attacks you have for me." I say this to her in a Japanese accent. She stands up, dusting off her blue plaid skirt and gets in a fighting stance.

I get into position. At five feet eight inches, Gally is a very petite girl. However, her body contains plenty of muscle. I am thankful that we are only joking with each other, but in reality, people need to be cautious. I think it is a good time to mention that Gally is an amateur boxer. She trains on a regular basis with her father. I have seen her at practice at the gym in town and she has very good techniques. I have yet to see her in a competition, but I fear for the person who contests her.

As soon as I make my stance, I wave my hands. "I give, I give, you win." I swing my hands with the imaginary white flag. She returns with her octopus lips.

"No fair, you suck at playing," she tells me while blowing through her nose. "You have to let me practice with you sometime. I mean a fighting partner."

I shake my head. "No ma'am. I am nobody's punching bag."

"Would you let Rae Broussard do it?"

"Fuck off," I say while throwing a pillow at her. Big mistake.

She jumps from the chair and jumps on top of me. She places her body weight on my hips and holds me down. I can see the look in her eyes that she is serious about getting me well.

"Bow down," she tells me.

"No," I tell her.

"Say' bow down to me,'" she tells me.

She has a good grip. From the position I am lying, I blush as I can see her inside of her skirt. She is wearing her favorite blue panties. She only wears them when there is a boy she likes or when she is hope for some good luck.

It doesn't go without notice from Gally, which made her blush. She hits me on my chest.

"God, you are such a perv," she tells me before getting off of me. "You could have told me."

"How could I? Not my fault you decided to wear a skirt today."

After exchanging remarks for a few seconds, she returns back to my chair and I go to the closet to find some clothes for today. We only have thirty minutes or else we are going to miss first period. Gally helps herself to the stereo where she puts on a CD. Frank Ocean is the choice of the morning. While I am changing my pants, she is singing to the tone.

I have a flashback. The time when me and Gally had our first experience.

We were listening to Frank Ocean when she made a move on me. In the midst of listening to Forrest Gump, surrounding the smog of marijuana and nicotine smoke was when she planted a kiss on my lips. Her lips were chapped. I depicted that after she tore the top part of my lip. I licked my lips; only for my tongue to savor her taste.

She tasted of orange soda.

It was from the gum she had chewed all day. A habit, may I add. She knew how to keep a piece of gum for hours on end. Consumed with the Fanta she dranked religiously; alongside with the marijuana she got from her older brother, who is also a dealer, may I add. I could never ask her the reasoning of the kiss. There was no moment. There weren't any music, montages, nothing. Sitting in her bed like we always did on a Saturday afternoon and she just kissed me.

Her eyes staring into the abyss as I knew she wanted more than just that. It was evident as she locked the door behind her, turning up the music, and planted me down to the soft cushions of her bed. She moved aside the plates we got from the Chinese joint and the rolling papers and the magazine of  _Rolling Stone_. Her only response I have received from her was, "For some reason, I ran her mind."

She took her moisten hands, laying every single digit on my blushed cheeks. She closed her eyes and planted another kiss, only this time to my neck. My neck was the nest of her tongue as she was very soft. My neck welcomed her moist muscle as it caressed the skin and the dead skin it collect to her. I moan out loud as I tried my hardest to collect the whimsicalness of the matter.

But that was my Gally. She took a lot of me that day in her fortress of a home. My first kiss and my first time. Well, let's be specific, the first time I have given permission of my innocence.

If there is any leftover. There was an incident. Something I am afraid to really express. I take that bad, I knew what happened, but it something I have yet to properly digest. Like red meat or something like that. It sits and sits, making you feel it until it goes away. Meat can leave, the past can not. It resides in parts of your brain that never forgets. It goes away for awhile until something triggers it. Like a flick of the camera, Gally looked just like my captor. They shared the same smile, the same laugh, the gap in her tooth. It was like staring at a complete reflection.

It was something I could never tell Gally. Even as she rested on my chest after our encounter, she rubbed my hair, kissing my neck tenderly as she rested in the afterglow, I could never tell her the transgressions of someone that close to her who do something that horrible to me.

I still love Gally. To this very day, I have no qualms about what happened that afternoon. It was an one-time thing. We still share kisses, but it is the closeness and the bond we have as close siblings. She is like a sister. I call her my sister. There would be a thing in the world to replace her. She is my everything, the very thing that keeps me sane in this town.

A few months ago, I was close of leaving this town, this desolate place, this world for good. Gally was the first to find me close to the river banks. She fought her tears to return me to this world. She kept me close, keeping me warm until the ambulance came. She was there from the ambulance to the hospital. She was there to bring me homework and to feed me. She was there from the beginning to the end. She is an angel in my eyesight, a true friend indeed.

There is no one in this world compared to the love I have for my Gally.

"Ido, get the molasses out of your ass, the school bus is arriving," she tells me as she hurries to get to the stop.

I manage to make it to the bus stop on time. The hardness of the sidewalk doesn't help my balance as I am struggling to stay awake. I didn't get much sleep last night. My mother had company.

Before I could make a yawn, Gally shoves a can of Red Bull in my mouth. I taste the piss of Chuck Norris into my throat and sigh after the taste. It helps. Gally knows when I have those days.

"You should thank God I have these things. It is like when girls have periods and it is synchronized," she tells me while grinning. She, too, gets another can of Red Bull and partakes.

"You watch too much Oxygen," I tell her without looking. "Better yet, do you still have cable at your house?"

"You are already talking too much this morning, Ido," she tells me while punching me in the shoulder. "You never complain when you come over and watch with me."

"Amazing that we are still friends after this long."

I look around and see the school bus approaching to its direction. It begins to make a U-turn before displaying its stop sign to alert others. Where we live is a one-lane dead end street. Surrounded by vines, poinsettias, crapes, and the mysterious river behind us. Gally pats me on my neck and we begin our trek to the bus.

I greet my bus driver as I make my way to the back. I see the look of hopelessness from the students as they stare into the abyss. I, too, feel the same way. Unlike them, their future as already been determined judging by their homelife. I can smell the tar and medicine from someone's meth kitchen. I won't be surprised to hear another explosion coming up soon. Hasn't been the first, won't be the last.

I take a seat at my usual spot, the last row in the back. Gally follows. She wants the window seat and I let her. I take my seat and put my backpack in between my lap as we make our way to the school. Meanwhile, Gally puts on her headphones and rest her head on my shoulder. Feeling her warmth comforts me, a glimmer of love. A silver lining in the stitch of life. If she knew, if she knew, if she knew, if she knew, if she knew.

If she knew that something I didn't like looking at her. It wasn't her. It was her reflection. I can still taste of the alcohol on my breath. I can still feel the cold, hard floor as I am sandwiched with bare flesh. I screamed for my father. I screamed for my grandmother. I screamed for my mother. The latter was hopeless. I can still see the decrepit, detritus blonde smoking her filter tips as she counted the money as Gally's reflection took advantage of me.

I spiral. Spiral because of the past. I stare at my scars. It stares at me. It wants to give me a revelation to my genesis. It tells me to try again. It is okay, it tells me. It wants to clothe me and return me to the dust I came. Resting alongside with the others that the mysterious Mississippi hides. I forbid these thoughts. Regardless of the matter, I still have to report to my counselor once a week.

That is a story for another time.

The bus stop at the corner near the entrance of the oll refinery. Another boy enters our circle. He twists his curls and spit at the ground before entering the bus. He quietly speaks to the bus driver before making his way to the back. He overlooks the other students before nodding his head at Gally and me. There was always a hard look about DeAndre. Like me, he doesn't come from best of living arrangements. Unlike me, he has been sent from home to home since he was put into foster care at the age of nine.

He and I became friends since I have moved into this town. You can call him, an enforcer, a bodyguard, if you will. A contradiction since he was sort of the neighborhood bully. Many in this town feared him because of his tremendous height and stature. Standing at six feet eight inches and a body made of pure muscle, DeAndre is a force to be reckoned with. Despite numerous invitations to pursue basketball or football, his true passion was hustling.

That is a story for another time.

We slap hands before he puts on his music and lies against the window seat. He knows he won't be long before his partner in crime comes. Once again, another girl who is a part of our circle.

A tiny shack surrounded by myrtle crapes and magnolia trees is home to a girl who is hard in the face, but at the same time, one of the sweetest girls in town. A dreamer, a woman who vies for a better life more than me. A woman who deserves it better more than me. If I have time to tell you of the things this girl has witnessed, but that too is a story for another time.

Leiko speaks to the bus driver as she comes inside. Her green streaks covers her brown, almond shaped eyes. Wearing a t-shirt,  _Reality Kills_ doesn't compare, but this woman is a true warrior. She silently greets me before shoving DeAndre to the side. He doesn't flinch. He offers an earpiece to Leiko before returning to his stance on the window.

We call ourselves the Misfits. That is because we are one of the few kids in our town that honestly have an obtuse view of our town. We seek more, but find it hard of reach. Sometimes, I ask myself does anything I tell you guys make sense? Yet, does anything make sense in this world?.

"Abandon all hope when thou enter." That is the catchphrase of DeAndre when he knows we enter our school. I shake Gally to wake her up. I take a look at the gray sky before seeing the gray marble building in our eyesights. The bus comes to a halt. I allow the others to lead the way before making my way into the sea of destitute.

You may question my moral compass, but if you think I can do better, then tell me where I should go.


	3. Crooked Ensemble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. Big Diesel here. It has been awhile since I have released this story and I wanted to give you an update. I have decided to make this a slow build. The synopsis remains the same. Just building momentum for the characters of this story. If you are a fan of my works and aware of my style of writing, then you know how I can get. If not, I understand. Please continue to support my story and my other works. Enjoy the story. Thanks! God bless! Happy Reading!

It isn't two minutes stepping our soles onto school grounds as we hear the bellowing sounds of the Rat. A stout individual, weighing at two hundred fifty pounds and standing at five foot five inches, just made his proper introduction to a cheerleader next to the water fountain. Gnashing his teeth and wiping his tiring eyes, the Rat proudly displays his trademark by lifting the skirt of our cheerleading classmate.

"Wow," spits the Rat. And I mean it when he spits. The Rat has a lisp and is very heavy tongued. I am very cautious of those being new to him. Wear a raincoat, sunglasses, and I hope that raincoat is embedded with tough skin protection along with a sense of humor. "These are some butt-ugly panties, girl. I can also see a skid mark. Are you running tracks with moves or with your bowels?"

The results ends him with a slap to the face from the embarrassed classmate. Her harrowing eyes are fumed with anger, wanting to further attack the Rat. Alas, before we could intervene, our school enforcement officer does. He uses the cheerleader as a distraction and runs, better yet, skips away from trouble. A slow-witted individual, it won't be long until we find him in detention. Until then, we watch the show already in progress.

"All I want to be is a rescue ranger. To act like an ass and live my life in danger." The lispy, singsong voice carols the hallway, beelining through the crowd as the student break away from becoming part of the Rat's storm. Gwakers, mostly jocks, laugh at his charade. I stand next to my locker, shaking my head of my lovable, pitiful friend. It means we get to stay after school to watch over him. The girl's dude will be waiting for him. DeAndre nods his head with approval. He, too, knows as we stare silently.

Before I get lost with my own perils of events, I want to introduce the Rat to you all, first. His real name is Hiro. We call him the Rat because of his large stature and his large buck teeth. Trust me when I tell you that the nickname is out of love and not of mockery; well, a bit teasing, but he understands. The Rat and I met a year ago when he returned home after spending a couple of years with his grandparents in Michigan. Returning home wasn't a choice. His grandparents were elderly and were at the point of no longer could they can take care of them as they couldn't take care of themselves. The Rat returned to live with his mother. Neither of us can stand his mother. An artist, she rather dedicate her time to her work then to tend to the needs of her son. Hiro has a disability and we are unsure of what it is. Anyway, Gally knew the Rat from elementary school and she was one of the few people in time who tolerated him. Let me tell you that the word itself is a compliment. Because not many people can handle being with Gally, let alone pissing her off.

I am leading you back to the current events. The Rat continues shouting through the backdoors of the outside quad. The laughing charade dies down. The warning bell rings and I get myself prepared for first period. Gally hits me as a sign of goodbye before walking off to class. DeAndre tilts his head as a farewell before going to class. Leiko stays behind. I know the reason and I wait until the crowd dies down. I gather my things and close my locker. Leiko and I walk a few paces into the side hallway that is barely used. I look around before reaching into my backpack. I give her a file folder.

"Ok, Leiko, I type the work based on how you would write it. I applied your lexicon and background. So, at least, you will get a B on this assignment."

"How come I can't get an A," she asks me with a hint of disappointment.

"With a D in the class, if the teacher sees you with an A paper, then that is your ass in the grass," I explain to her. "Plus, I have the same teacher like you and it is going to catch on if you don't do this work."

"I know," she says while rubbing your shoulder. "I am sorry once again for disturbing you the other night, but it has been hard at home."

"Tell me about it, Leiko," I tell her with empathy. I kneeled to the floor as I don't want to attract attention. She pulls out a few dollars out from her bra and hands it to me. "It is ten bucks," she tells me with a disappointing tone. "If I had more than that, I would give more. Thanks."

I count the singles, but it is never the money I care for. I return it to her, but she halts her hand. "Keep it," she tells me. "I refuse to be a charity case. I want to thank you for doing my work. Thank you for covering for me these last few weeks." She stops, wrapping her arms around herself. She wants to shake, but trying her hardest to keep her composure.

Leiko Ngo is my other best friend. Interestingly enough, I have met her a few weeks before I have met Gally. Leiko and I shared Pre-Algebra together in the seventh grade. Her personality then is the same now. Very sweet-spirited, a dreamer. A woman of inner strength. An angel in my eyesight. A true friend indeed. I say that because Leiko has always protected me like Gally. I remember the time in the eighth grade when I pinned to the wall by the neighborhood bully. The hulk of strength was hustling and harassing me for my lunch money. When I refused, he punched me in the stomach. As I wallowed in the pain, I heard another shriek of pain from him. Leiko stood over the giant with a branch in her hand. She struck him a few times before I urged her stop. She went into his pocket and retrieve the money he took from me. Her  _coup de grace_ was her spit to his face. She took my hand as we darted away from the scene. That night, she called me crying when she told me that the bully called her mother and was returned with a beating of her own. I stay on the line with her, singing a song we liked before she fell asleep. She missed school for a couple of days. When she did come back, her skin displayed different patches of purple and blue. Despite the shiner in her eye, she had the same picturesque smile as we played at P.E.

Leiko is a self-trained musician, playing the piano at the age of four and learning to play the violin at the age of eight. She never took classes prior to junior high; she learned to play by ear. By the time she entered high school, she was an accomplished musician. Her musical talent shows as she is first chair in the orchestra. Her skills allowed her to play at Tulane, Loyola, Ole Miss, and even the University of Florida. Of course, the proceeds were provided by the school because her mother couldn't give a damn about her daughter's sense of talent. Speaking of her condiluted mother, who is a manager at a hotel, she considers her daughter as useless since the day she conceived the poor girl.

But that is something to talk about for another time.

What makes me happy about Leiko is that she recently received an invitation from the Berklee College of Music in Boston. If she goes, she plans to major in Performance. She tells me and the others that she always wanted to perform in Broadway or Carnegie Hall or the Hollywood Bowl, anywhere that would appreciate her talent. And of course, she will gives us backstage passes as her roadies. She always tell us she couldn't imagine doing a show without us being there for support.

I put the money in my pocket for I know Gally is going to take it when she wants to buy a sack from the school dealer after school. Leiko turns around to put the paper in her backpack. My face turns sour as I see the concealed makeup covering the bruise on her neck. It reminds me of seventh grade. The purple dinosaur attacked me, she told me on the phone those many years ago. I rub myself as I can share her pain on bruises and scars. I look to my wrist, kissing it as it reminded me of the time at the river. The time where I wanted to quit. The time even now in which I still have thoughts.

But those are thoughts. Thoughts can produce from the synapse of the brain; but as long you don't ponder on it, no idea can be born. Or so those were the words of the school counselor.

* * *

I sit in my English class as I am instructed to do by the Board of Education. The objective of spending my thirty six weeks in a 45 minute class to obtain my credit to move to another adventure. The expenditure of the government at its finest. It is easily to instruct those what to do and to give orders without taking responsibility. I laugh at this because how are we using tax payer's money to provide an education for these children who have the precognition of their hopeless existence? Why not take it a simple value of a time filler? Allow the children who have the desire to learn come forth and do it. If they want a future, I mean if I want a future, then do the necessary. I tell myself these riveting tales as I am still picking at the scars of my early departure. It wasn't until I felt the soft hand of Gally's nudging me to concentrate on my lesson.

Today's assignment is a free write. On the front page of my spiral notebook, I wrote the title, dreamer. I am a dreamer. I have these desires, better yet visions of being away from myself. If I had the gift of astral projection, then I would sit on my cloud and watch the forces at bay. Like being God and watching the transgressions of society unfolding. You probably think I am very narcissistic, a teen who devalues life and loathes in it. I don't, believe me. I just. I just. I just don't know my caliber or my strength. That is why I see Gally as my rock, my anchor that keeps me afloat. She has saved me on many different occasions as I done the same for her. I am very quite needy, if I think about it.

I scribble on my notepad on the topic at hand. Should I discuss the overthrow of a tyrannical government? Should I be personal and describe the issues of my parents' divorce? Should I talk about my catatonic grandmother? My drug and alcohol abusing mother? My missing father? Gally? The two other friends? What? What? What?

Fortunately, the school bell does it for me and I retire of my English studies for the day. Like a friend, I carry Gally's binder and we walk into the hallway. I always ignore the sea of students who parade themselves in their mockery. Overlooking the jocks who post at lockers, fiending for a girl to consummate; the cheerleaders who talks about non-issues; the goths and the nerds; and the like. Even in this small town, the hierarchy exists. As a misfit, I negate, better yet neglect the predestined order I should follow. Even if the fools and the shysters question me, I am fortunate to have DeAndre to back me.

Speaking of which, I see him stepping out of Chemistry with Leiko following behind. I think it is safe to mention that Leiko and DeAndre are a couple. Since being at this town, the duo has stuck it through together. Word among the grapevine tells me that Leiko took a liking to DeAndre after he and his brothers hustled her father out of some money. Her father was and is a degenerate gambler and thought he could win a simple dice game. One thing about DeAndre, he does play for keeps. After Leiko's father thought he could swindle the brothers, the brothers returned to the corner store where Leiko's father worked with a crowbar and some pliers. Let's just say that the brothers had a lenient judge and their sentences could have been longer than six weeks. I say that because Leiko's father was drinking from a straw for the next six months. Once again, rumors and hearsay of this corrugated town. I never asked them about their origins of their relationship. If it is up for discussion, then it is something to be discussed? They won't tell, I won't ask.

He gives me a head nod as he holds his hand with Leiko. Leiko pops her chewing gum while having headphones around her ears. Speaking of which, Gally blows into mine with a whisper.

"Let's get a smoke," she tells me with her gentle smile. She knows I am not a smoker, but she doesn't like smoking alone. The moment she speaks, the heads of DeAndre and Leiko turned around. They too agree for a smoke break. It is a blessing that we share the same gym class and I know that pervert of a gym coach isn't going to take attendance. As the students are going to the direction of their classes, we take another route where it leads to the back. The off-the-grid part of the school is under construction. They are making renovations. I question that because the ordinance of the dedication of the renovation was over three years ago. Our tax dollars at work.

It is no surprise that we have found The Rat sitting on a chair in the old shed. He has his feet kicked up on a dusted balance beam. The school haven't have gymnastics in years. He turns the radio low enough to not alert the others. What others, I think to myself. We have used this place since our junior year. We have yet to get caught. What amazes me is the amount of trust my teachers have on me. If I were to ditch class, I must have a good reason. Why not? I am seeing a counselor. I mean I have a decent grade in all of my classes. Why not? It takes no surprise that they are aware that a kid like me doesn't come from the best of environments.

I get a reminder the moment The Rat hits my back.

"Ouch," I hiss. "Shit, Hiro, you know I am tender there."

His goofy, but lovable smile fades away. "I am sorry, Lincoln, I forget."

I shrug my shoulders. "Relax, Ratty kid. No pressure, just don't forget." He feels better when I return his slap to the back. DeAndre shakes his head as he posts on the floor. Leiko finds a seat and sits next to the balance beam. Gally sits at the door. She stares into the hole where a knob used to be. It is her turn to keep watch. Every now and again, security comes through. They have yet to discover us, but we don't take our chances.

"Have a seat with me, Ido," she whines. Like a puppet, I go to the puppetmaster. She smiles, glaring with her pearly white smile. A smile that belongs in the pictures. If she doesn't last too long before punching a photographer for staring at her goods too long.

DeAndre is responsible for the cigarettes. He get his favorite unfiltered Mavius. Crafty, he lights the cigarette in the same hand he is holding. He takes a puff and passes it to Leiko. Leiko slides the cigarettes to the floor to Gally where she partakes. She throws them back to DeAndre where he returns them to his pocket.

The Rat's eyes widened when he didn't get his share of the loot. "Hey, hey," he boasts. "Where is my take of the loot?"

DeAndre coughs, wanting to spit, but not in front of us. "I thought you gave up smoking, kid."

"I gave them up yesterday. Not today," says the Rat.

"Fuck it, D," says Leiko. "If the kid wants to die from something, let him have it."

I see Gally bobbing her head to her music, keeping her head on my shoulder. Leiko is lighting a cigarette before she looks into her notebook to do her drawing. The Rat enjoys doing nothing, but love the fact of our company. DeAndre, on the other hand, gives me a look. As I explain in this group of misfits, DeAndre doesn't talk much. However, if he gives you a look, he has something serious to say.

"Hey, Linc, dawg," says DeAndre. "I want to apologize for the other day with your moms. I didn't know you didn't take company at a certain time."

I shake my head. "No, no, don't apologize. It wasn't your fault." I scoff for a moment. "My mom enjoys being a bitch. She didn't take her meds that day and her check was delayed. So, what you were seeing was a sober beast."

"No, kid," he interjects. "She didn't have to hit you like that. That was mad cold and I come from the block where we are used to having ass whoopings." He took a smoke. "The way she hit you. And with a broomstick, too?" He whistles. "I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

That lovely back pain I have mentioned. That is what he was talking about. As I do for Leiko, I do for DeAndre, the Rat, and Gally, I am a helper and a giver. That day. DeAndre came to my house because he wanted help with Finance Math. I am good with numbers because I used to help my dad with baseball stats when I was younger, so it was no problem on helping him.

So, we were in the kitchen when the incident occurred. Until then, we were listening to some hip hop music, drinking soda, and took occasional YouTube breaks. The door bursted open and in came the women in black. Her body was stiffed. The effects of lack of medication, lack of sleep, and without consumption of alcohol over the last 48 hours. She closed the door, dropping her things from whatever she came from. She goes into the living room. At first, we didn't give it a thought. She didn't acknowledge us. So, there wasn't an issue to worry, or so I thought.

She returned to the living room with a broomstick in her hand. At the time, I took a glance, for I was focusing on DeAndre. It took DeAndre's mouth to drop for me to turn to see the broomstick coming for me. I turned, hitting my back. She was silent. Just hitting my back. Maybe five or six times, give or take. Each hit, each grunt came a worse blow, a worse noise. When she was finished, she kicked my side. While I was lying in agony, she looked at DeAndre. From the position, she had a knife in her hand.

DeAndre kept his guard, but backed away. Deep down, there was guilt. If he could, he would. But, it was his word against hers if he defend himself to protect me. But, hey, would they be convinced that a black male was defending himself from a white woman? A major fallacy of living in the South.

He gathered his things and left. I didn't come to school for a couple of days. Gally checked in on me. The Rat send some baseball cards. Leiko send me texts. DeAndre felt guilty. He didn't do anything. Despite his tough demeanor, he had fear that day. I say that because DeAndre never backs away from a challenge. But that day in front of mother hindered him.

I know what you are thinking. Sounds like I am being a hypocrite. It is complicated in the mind of misfit. We want to do right, but in the end it is wrong through the eyes of others. Gally once told me that "doing right is like we have done nothing at all."

I tell DeAndre that I am no longer worried about that day. It has been a few weeks since then. I am still sore. The cracks have healed. The color is returning to my skin. I still have some splinters.

I mean, she did break the broom into four or five different pieces.

"I feel as though like fuck it. Let's us just ditch this fucking place." DeAndre stands up and shakes the dust from his creased, starched jeans. "I say we should take whatever cash we can grab and leave this damned city. I mean, fuck, this state."

Something how he stands. Prim, proper, ready to preach. It gets the attention of the others.

"I say we just go somewhere that people don't know us. Go somewhere to find our plans in life," he says with absoluteness in his life.

"Where in the hell can we go," asks Leiko. "Listen, babe. We are underaged, broke as hell, and neither of us has a car."

"I know. But, we can jack our parents' money and just take a bus. I don't know, like Portland or Seattle."

"Why those places," asks the Rat. He places down his cigarette. He makes a quick reminder to not put it on the balance beam. "Who knows us over there?"

"Nobody, that's who," interjects DeAndre. "Us misfits ain't cut out for this town. I mean the fact we hang out together is still strange in itself. A black dude, in a Confederate conservative town, hanging out with two Asians and two white folks?"

"Hey, hey," shouts Gally. "I am half-Asian also. Remember, my real name is Momoko."

DeAndre smirks. "Clever as always to mess up a serious moment." He shrugs his shoulder. "That is why I love you guys."

The Rat put his finger to his lip. "DeAndre may have something here. Go away and head out west. Find our freedom and live free from the detriments of this fucked up society."

"We can be like  _Easy Rider,_ but with four others," says Gally.

Leiko shakes his head. "It seems promisable, but it is such a dream. I can't even think about leaving my sisters behind with my parents."

DeAndre heavily sighs. "Shit, not my bro either." He cracks his knuckles. "Damn, this is fucked up."

The Rat lets out a smile. "Dreamers we are, but it doesn't hurt that one day it could change. I mean, my preacher always tells me, "trouble don't last always.""

Is that true, the Rat? I can't think of a time in which I ever felt peace unless I have gone to sleep or have passed out. I thought my time at the river was the finalization of my ending troubles. The times I can remember my mother hitting me and abusing me. There were other incidents, but I am yet ready to discuss.

"Time for you to find a new church," interjects Leiko with a slight scoff. She looks at her watch. "Gym class is almost over."

We scramble our things together to leave our solace, our oasis, our sanctuary. Aside from the bullshit we face at school or at home, this place is closest to peace I have since being in this town.

* * *

I am going to speed you guys up to this part for I honestly don't think you would care about the boring parts of being in school. So, I say goodbye to my friends as they depart back to their homes. The Rat lives on the other side of town. He walks home. Although it is over five miles away, he loves the walk, for it delays the inevitable.

Gally and I are one of the few left as the bus comes to our stop. She takes my hand and we got off the bus. I cough as I began inhaling the fumes of our lovely, dilapidated bus departs.

Gally grabs my shoulder. "You want to come over and watch MTV with me?"

I shake my head. "Not today. I want to go home and take a nap before  _she_ gets home."

She pouts. As I leave, she takes my hand. "Lincoln."

I turn to her. My face remains absent. She knows this. She knows me too well. She knows I can easily come to house, but I don't want to trouble her. Her, or her father, or her siblings. I mean what I say the Molyneaux family are good people. A family I really want a part of.

"I wanted to know that you are still going to the formal with me tonight," she asks me. She rubs her feet on the gravel. "I have convinced the others to come and join. It will be great." She smirks. "Even Rae would be there."

I recognize her fake smile. This is not what she wants to say to me. There is something else. I felt that chill the day she and I were listening to Frank Ocean. The scent of marijuana, the taste of orange soda, and the Chinese food. She wants something beyond that. Like a pet who seeks comfort from their owner. Or better yet.

A mother who seeks comfort from their child. Or a child who seeks comfort from their mother.

"Yeah," I tell her. "I am still coming tonight." I look at the ground. "Is there anything I need to bring?"

She shakes her head. "No, it's cool. We will stop by the store on the way. My brother knows the guy who works there. Just meet me outside around eight." She looks at my house. "Your Mom should be passed out by then."

I rub my head. "Hell yeah. I hope she does. Last time I check, there is plenty of liquor in the pantry and pills in her room."

She giggles. "Just making sure." She kisses me on my cheek. "Well, I see you then." She turns. I see her skirt shake in the process. She walks to her house. I make my way toward mine. If she knows that I can sense something is off, she would have made the guest that I notice her turning to make another glance at me. I keep walking for I know what she wants.

As I mention, she is like a mother who seeks comfort from her child. Despite my love for her, I can't. We are one in the same.

She, too, has scars. She just wears it better than mine.


End file.
